


The Truth of You

by apologija



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Doomed Timelines, Dreams, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ficlet, Gen, M/M, POV Second Person, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2017-11-21 02:12:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apologija/pseuds/apologija
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These memories don't belong to you, but they are now your burden to bear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Truth of You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Grimalkin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimalkin/gifts).



> This is for Ed (Grimalkin), i said i would try and slay you with feels, this probably won't work but i tried.
> 
> I didn't plan to post this here since i didn't really get to put any TLC into it or as much time as I would have normally, but my theme on my tumblr made the formatting look seriously off. I hope it's okay.
> 
> This wasn't beta'd at all so critique/comments very welcome.

Blood.

There was no denying it.

Candy red and all shining up at you in the darkness.

In the gloom what edged at your senses and forged a mockery all of what you made known of.

Bright and unnatural in the glory what shone from it, dripping down digits and slathered thick on the weapon you wielded.

Your bro was dead, ain't no denying that. Motherfucking slaughtered quick and all easy under the force of your clubs. Bones shattered and flesh mulched until what face you once knew ain't what it ought be no more. Them features once considered with such fond familiarity are smeared and broken, running into each other and lost within the red what eats at your senses, twists the pan you got and brings all the world to it's motherfucking knees.

Dead.

 _He deserved it_ , comes the thought at you all like a shot through the nerve straw. _Motherfucker chose that bitch over you. Motherfucker abandoned you. Ain't had no choice, no choice at motherfucking all. Had to kill him. Had to motherfucking end him._

He didn't care none about you at all.

You weren't nothing to him, all just a brother what he made to humor. Hell, maybe he all did have some affections buried deep for you, but you weren't ever to be taking no importance with him.

And now he was dead.

That hemo juice of his alllll motherfucking drenching your hands.

Dripping down the walls.

Oozing into puddles along the floor.

You killed him.

You killed the brother what you cared for the most.

And he deserved it.

The motherfucker deserved it.

Blackness gets at you hard, ensnaring your senses, mutant red and the colour of flesh and murder all tainting what's seen and making an assault on your mind.

The blood won't come off your hands.

It won't go back in him.

He won't move he won't yell he won't smile he won't look at you he's dead you motherfucking killed him and it kills you to have killed him and why the motherfuck did you all up and kill your most palest of brothers.

Wait-- but he weren’t all being that, were he?

"Gamzee, wake up."

You had no motherfuckin right to kill him and now you can't fix it, you can't make it right, the blood don’t run backwards and the blood won't leave your hands, all motherfucking painting guilt across your features.

“Gamzee! Wake up!”

Everything is falling to pieces; cracks in the paint, holes in the armour, allowing all of you to run out through the breaches formed and you feel yourself emptying, emptying and leaving nothing behind.

“GAMZEE!”

Suddenly there is light and the smashed face of your bro is all whole and staring down at you with such concern you never thought possible-- but it was possible, you all known at that. This weren’t the first time you seen it, so why...?

“Calm down, you’re thrashing more than a stubborn wiggler and his first ablution. What the hell happened?”

Long fingers what you know belong to you, free of blood and guilt, all make a grope at his features and the concern what was had melted away in frustration as you felt him out. Your bro was alive and hole, you never killed him. You could never kill him, yeah?

He looks all ready to be making noise all salty at you but his expression melts quick and suddenly his thumb is at your cheeks and wiping away the moisture what gathered unbeknownst to you.

“What? Hey, shhh, calm down; I’m not mad or anything okay? You don’t have to start blubbering about it--”

That motherfucker gets no chance to finish what thought he has as soon them lanky arms of yours are all dragging him in for a hug, feeling warmth and life even as the skin of you all holds memories crisp of wet blood and cold flesh.

The visions were still fresh and all acute with the reality of them; hardly dreams but memories what never ought belong to you.

You did kill your best friend.

Ended him brutality what turned your guts.

The echoes of other selves what lay best rejected but are now your burden to bear.

“Gamzee, it’s going to be okay. Just calm down, please? I’m here.”

And he is there and so are you and you cling to him and you cry into his hair and clothes, fingers clutching as the vision lingers and the truth of you stares accusingly from within.


End file.
